Jackpot
by the wandering path
Summary: .30kisses. Kyouya never believed in luck, but when he takes a gamble and plays, the jackpot prize is..Haruhi? 30unrelated KyouyaxHaruhi oneshots.8:A strange tale where a princess is not a princess,a prince is not a prince,and the witch is not who he seems
1. perfect ten

**_Perfect Ten_**

_by incarnadine rose_

_Theme: #10 - #10_

_I don't own OHSHC._

* * *

_Written on 15Nov07._

The Ootoris have been, for decades, the crème de la crème in their areas of expertise. Their medical services are top-notched and highly reputed; their auxiliary and mutually exclusive military soldiers are highly-efficient, and fanatically loyal; their luxurious resorts have received worldwide recognition and are among the supreme in their league.

Ootori Yoshio, the leading chairman of these various corporations, therefore only adored one and only one number. It was not the obnoxious number one or the magically-powerful number seven. Neither is it the highest among its brethren, number nine, or the unorthodox and unlucky number thirteen.

No, Ootori Yoshio only fancied one number, and that one number was the perfect and blemish-less number ten.

He likes everything about it, from the way it signified the acme of perfection and excellence to the way it is rolled off the tongue with simplicity and elegance by emphasizing the 'n'.

_10 _was round and nice and even.

_10_ also embodied wholeness and completeness.

_10…_was the number Haruhi hated.

It was not only the fact that it was so surreal and _too_ perfect, but it also highlighted the obnoxiousness of the rich and the affluent, which was one point that Haruhi was _very_ sensitive to.

There were more than enough reasons for her to detest it, to abhor it with every single fibre of her body, especially since that one fateful day when---

"Kyouya. Haruhi. I want ten grandchildren. Do not fail me."

Ootori Yoshio mentioned it during dinner, in a highly authoritative and austere tone, completed with a don't-you-dare-disobey-me-or-your-family-will-sacrifice-their-lives look.

The first thing Haruhi thought was: _Oh. _

She was just thinking about how delicious the delightful spread of seafood in front of her looked and the lobster that just _kept_ tempting her with its crimson red tinge and delicious fragrance and she was about to show her prowess to the lobster by eating it.

And then, her nerve signals slowly processed the few words. _Grandchildren. Ten of them. _

_Do not fail me. _

_Ahh…Who's that unlucky couple, I must really offer my utmost condolences._

Then,_ Kyouya, Haruhi, _came into her mind…

Haruhi choke and sputtered out the water she was about to intake.

Kyouya knew there would be trouble and immediately excused themselves and returned to their wing, dragging an angry (about-to-explode) Haruhi along.

After the door was closed and double-locked, Haruhi imploded (which was of course expected by Kyouya.)

"HE WANTS ME TO GO THROUGH TEN _FREAKING CHILDBIRTHS!"_

Oh how fantastic, why don't he just go and invest in a football team?

Kyouya could only chuckle and comfort his wife (and later find some means to bribe her into accepting the decision).

He gently placed his fingers on her chin and tilted it such that her flushed cheeks faced his own.

"Now, now, why worry unduly about such _trivial_ things? We will cross the bridge when we get to it, ne?" He said calmly, and with that, he kissed her squarely on her lips, as an attempt for a truce for the time being.

But Haruhi was not so easily pacified.

"Easy for you to say, _Mother_, why don't _you_ try it?"

Kyouya could only chuckle and (_slightly_ meekly) nodded his head in assent.

-owari

A/n: Because it was just too fun imagining all that happened. First of the thirty kisses collection. Comments appreciated. Erm, I hoped Haruhi was in-character though. Heh.


	2. 4 in the morning

**4**

**i****n****the**

**morning**

by greenblanket

**#29: the sound of waves**

I disclaim/ do not claim/ _cannot _claim.

* * *

_Written on 18__th__ Dec '07_

Ootori Kyouya was known for being everything from a cold, calculating bastard to a no-nonsense egotistical jerk who expected everything to go his way and the world to bow down at his feet at his slightest command.

Ootori Kyouya was not a man you could call out at four in the morning just because you felt like having a cappuccino with him; and for the record he never drank cuppas or frappes or mochas or lattes. For the better, he took his coffee black, unsweetened. After all, what was the point of disguising the true essence of coffee – its bitterness – behind the façade of cream and saccharine sugar?

From thus, you could see his take on life – everything was to be simple and unaffected, and controlled by only him.

But be it pure coincidence, or perhaps not, he found himself answering his mobile at four in the morning, while he was drafting a proposal on the new advertisement to be marketed on the Ootori's state-of-the-art medical facilities.

"Ootori Kyouya speaking."

"Kyouya-senpai…this is Haruhi…Sorry for calling this early, would you like to meet up for a coffee at the…um…newly opened café? The one near the beach…um…"

"At 4 in the morning?" He asked, arching an aristocratic eyebrow.

"Well, Kyouya-senpai, I do have something important to tell you..."

"Very well then, 4.10 at the café _Blue Rose_. Au revoir, my princess."

"Goodbye."

He always did have a soft spot for the all-too-intelligent, yet all-too-dense female host of their infamous host club. After graduation, Kaoru had asked her out, and she had surprisingly agreed, but they had parted after two months on friendly terms. Their beloved baka king had decided (after a long period of withdrawal symptoms from Haruhi's rejection) to settle down with Éclair Tonnerre, a woman who could take him in hand and anchor him just as Haruhi had, except she actually truly loved him – whatever she saw in him, heavens knew – but they did make an adorable couple.

It was also during those two months that Kyouya realized he had more than brotherly affections for the natural host. It was after much deliberation and consideration on his part, wherein he calculated that his chances of success (of wooing the girl) was above 70 percent, that he decided to approach Haruhi to be his girlfriend. Ootori Kyouya did not fail, he hated failure, but in this, in the matters of love, he was unsure, and unconfident.

Because for all his tedious planning and painstaking planning, Haruhi herself was a wild card he could not measure, equate or slide-rule. He knew with an almost palpable ache that she could just as well reject as accept him, for she alone was not swayed by materialistic pleasures and fanciful words (but afterall, that was what charmed him – her standing staunchly by her beliefs, treating everyone, rich or poor, as equals, and being absolutely unimpressed by their freakish titanic wealth and eccentric personalities and always looking past them with her favourite phrase 'rich bastards').

Yet, despite being convinced of his failure, he asked, and she accepted.

It was a magical year for him, whilst they dated, but eventually they went their separate ways, for their destinies were like parallel lines – they might be next to each other but would never cross.

She wanted to concentrate on her career; he wanted to expand his already his existing empire. He was a ruler and she, well, refused to be ruled.

But every so often, the Shadow King's heart would betray him and he found his thoughts wandering towards her. Her sudden request out of the blue surprised him, but did not unnerve him, he would go to see what would happen, and as always, he would plan.

In the meanwhile…

Within eight minutes, he had arrived at _Blue Rose_, a lovely café facing the sea., and at this time of the day, he could hear the sound of waves breaking along the coast. It was high tide and he watched as the waves encroached the coast and began making its way up, with each breaking wake, the sea moved higher. Before he could muse upon the tide, a faint vanilla scent alerted Kyouya to her presence. Looking up, he smiled. As always, acting the gentleman, he stood up, and in one graceful motion, pulled the chair opposite his out, inviting her to sit.

"Convenient, these 24-hour cafes," he said, as his opening line, and waited for her response.

"Indeed, Kyouya-senpai."

"We've graduated long since, the need to address me with -senpai has long past. Kyouya, just call me Kyouya."

"Hai, Kyouya." It was a habit she never quite got over, even when they were dating.

They sat there in utter silence, enjoying the sea breeze, laced with the distinct tang of salt, and listened to the calming sound of waves crashing the shore, and the occasional cry of seagulls.

The world was still dark, and all was well.

They ordered.

Long black, please.

A Danish and a frappe, thank you.

They sipped their coffees in contemplative silence. Kyouya glanced at his watch, black and diamond studded no less. It read 4: 44am.

As he glanced at the formal host, he saw her bite her lip out of sheer nervousness, as she parted her lips to speak.

"Kyouya… I've decided to…marry Kaoru."

* * *

The words came like a lightning bolt on a sunny day, too sudden and too frightening, and for a moment he froze in utter shock and nearly flinched. But experience in the business world had trained him well, and he maintained a mask of indifference and continued to sip his long black in utter serenity, but somehow, the coffee tasted more bitter than ever. 

Inside, his mind was whirling madly and his heart almost beating too fast. He mused how Haruhi was so much like the sea, untamable and wild. Kyouya loved her for all of his heart, but love alone did not make them work out.

Kaoru, for all of his prankster ways, would know to give her full rein, and he was content with just having her, in a way Kyouya could never be.

_That explained her anxiety._

Pure envy ate away at his heart for after all, he was human, and his heart was like a fragile shell, and the sea could choose to destroy it in its fury, or caress it gently and bring it to shore.

Either way, he lost (for once). And he felt his heart shatter into a million pieces to the sound of the breaking waves.

The shell was broken, grinded into sand, washed away, forgotten.

"Congratulations, Haruhi, when are you holding the wedding? I'll be sure to attend." Kyouya refused to shake her hands, for fear he would not be able to let go.

_Why, Haruhi, why? Why couldn't we ended up together, with that perfect happily-ever-after, where the guy gets the girl, and everyone is happy?_

"Aren't you going to say anything else?"

_What else is there to say, Haruhi? It seems I loved you but you loved Kaoru._

"Well, I…hope both of you will have many grandchildren and live happily ever after." He smiled; a slight tug of the lips that never reached his eyes.

_Well I said it; I hope she lives happily ever after._

"Oh, I see. I guess I was mistaken. I'm sorry for imposing on you so early in the morning, Kyouya-senpai."

As the girl of my dreams stood up and turned to leave me for another future, another man, I could not help but stand up and place a restraining hand on her elbow. She turned back expectantly, and I leant forward, as I had so many times before, memorizing the soft texture of her lips for the last time, and planted a chaste kiss on her lips.

As I drew back, I could see the questioning look on her face, and the slight blush that tinged her cheeks.

"Au revoir, for the last time, my princess." I said, using my affectionate nickname for her.

I swept her a courtly bow, as the significance of the kiss registered in Haruhi and turned towards the beach for a walk, hoping that it would wash away the events of today since four in the morning.

Little was I to know that had I tried to stop her, plead, beg or even show some semblance of interest or unwillingness, Haruhi would have immediately cancelled her wedding engagement with Kaoru.

How was I to know then?

As I walked away from the only woman I ever loved, with the bitter taste of long black in my mouth and the breaking sound of waves behind me, for the first and last time, I, Ootori Kyouya, intended heir to the Ootori enterprises, wept.

* * *

I give you everything that I am  
I'm handin' in everything that I've got  
Cause I wanna have a really true love  
Don't ever wanna have to go and give you up  
Stay up till four in the morning and the tears are pouring  
and I want to make it worth the fight  
What have we been doing for all this time?  
Baby if we're gonna do it, come on do it right

* * *

A/n: Hey, this is my first story for the collections... hope you enjoyed it! Merry Christmas, guys! 

greenblanket

Ps: the story is not inspired by the song, and the lyrics are merely added as an afterthought since they share the same name ;)


	3. implied meanings

I**mp**_**lie**__d __m_**e****an**_**i**__ng_s

by greenblanket and inapickle

#15: perfect blue

Bisco Hatori still owns it, so...Pity us (sue us not).

greenblanket: This was supposed to be a Christmas special and all, but the sad fact was that I thought of it on Christmas night, and sat down to write till the wee hours of the morning, and was only three quarters way through… well kinda though more like 4/7 way through, well anyway after writing all that I put aside for a really long while and only got back to it around now and I got inapickle to type bits for me like the description of Haruhi's dress, and the backbone with bits of filled out parts for the ending and yes, it's finished.

So what can I say?

Enjoy.

* * *

_Written on 25th Dec 07 all the way to 3rd Feb 08._

Would the sky on Christmas night be different from any other night?

Would the stars shine more brilliantly?

Would the sky perhaps be darker, more mysterious?

Would anything, anything at all, be any different from any other night of the 365 days?

You cared to choose. Perhaps not.

But then again, human imagination supplied the rest.

However, Fujioka Haruhi was never a child of the whimsical or the fanciful. She preferred down-to-earth pants or jeans over frilly skirts and dresses. To her, they were such a waste of material and money; what if an emergency cropped up and she had to run whilst wearing one of those dresses?

She could imagine herself tripping, or knocking into people, or…whatever it was, it was a simply a nuisance. An utter frivolity.

It was also on this Christmas night that she was invited (read: dragged; cajoled; coerced; manhandled by physical force; threatened; pleaded with) to the reunion ball of Ouran graduates, nonetheless hosted by the infamous host club.

It had been five years from where they left off, but everyone was chatting away happily, as though the five years meant nothing. Their beloved 'baka' king, Suou Tamaki, was just as dazzling as ever, causing a massive fangirl stampede (all of whom rushed to claim his first dance). It seemed as if the five years apart had not put him out of his element, and once again Haruhi wondered where all the roses came from, but dismissed it as yet another quirk of those rich bastards.

Hani and Mori were still inseparable, and Hani had finally (finally!) grown taller. The loli-shota boy loved extremes, be it excessive sugar, or excessive short stature, or excessive cute Usa-chan, or…well, need she say more? Now, he swung to the other extreme, and was just slightly taller than Mori, looking handsome in his tailored-to-fit Valentino suit. Thankfully enough, he still retained his OC(s/c)D: Obsessive Compulsive sugar / cutie-pie Disorder. Usa-chan was still faithfully at his side, the cute floppy-eared friend tucked carefully in the breast-pocket of his suit.

Mori, on the other hand, did not seem to change at all, like a stone standing firm in the changing tides of time.

The twins, had annoyingly decided to stick to Haruhi's side like super glue, not unlike the old times, except they seemed to have gotten worse, flirting outrageously and insisting on feeding her the specially pre-ordered log cake, limited to only 100 in this world and costing about half an apartment, being hand-made by the world-famous patissier Bossa Nova (surprise, surprise!). He had acquired international recognition upon creating his signature pastry named _Haruhi. _It was rumoured that whoever tasted it could feel the soft promise of spring, yet it was not overtly sweet, possessing a tinge of cinnamon, as though signaling that spring, for all of its inner beauty, had a hidden inner strength.

The reunion ball was nothing short of extravagant and ostentatious. Ruby chandeliers cast soft glows onto the marble floors, creating a romantic atmosphere. Tall fir-trees imported from Finland were dressed tastefully in gilded and chrome baubles, with a crystal seraph perched at the top, adding much dazzle to the Olympic football-sized hall. Nearby, a group of renowned choir boys from Vienna were belting out beautiful lines of Christmas songs to the symphony of a musical ensemble imported from France.

Hikaru and Kaoru were entertaining her with all sorts of ridiculous jokes, like the time they decided to prank-call the Minister of State and threatened to set the fashion police on him if he continued wearing paisley; or the time where they had baked cupcakes for everyone in their company, containing _life-threatening _amounts of sugar that could keep Hani awake and drive his household crazy for a week.

As for Haruhi, the twins had been cheered on mutinously for dressing up her perfectly (note that it was after persistent whining and begging till she relented). She donned a cobalt-blue silk halter-gown revealing pale, ivory, delicate shoulders. The corset was stitched with onyx gemstones patterned to form leafy shapes that adorned the waist, accentuating her svelte figure. From thereon, the gown flared outwards in darker shades of blue, revealing a snow white silk gossamer underskirt, and collecting neatly around her feet. Ebony silk gloves snaked up her slim wrists, with a slightly lacy trim. On the bottom left of the skirt, an elegant 'Hitachiin' was stitched in the finest black threads, completing a sophisticated look.

Haruhi's chin-length brown hair was trimmed such that the sides were longer to frame her heart-shaped face and the back was visibly shorter, and her bangs were swept to the side with gel holding it in place. Two African violets were tucked carefully at the sides.

The end product was a charming Haruhi who turned heads and occupied Tamaki's thoughts ever since he laid his eyes upon his beloved daughter. Her expression was, on the other hand, totally unattractive. A scowl was firmly into place, and her russet eyes radiated annoyance. (But of course, in everyone's eyes, it made her look more endearing and cute.) She poked at the lace tentatively, and glared at the Hitachiins, who were proudly displaying their toy and were seemingly unaffected by her sharp glances.

Lastly, Kyouya was just as severe-looking as ever, in his navy-blue, almost-black suit, straight out, without any frills (unlike Tamaki's), typing on his trusty Pineapple at an incredulous speed. He paused only a few moments to sip the champagne or greet an important customer he had once hosted.

However, he stopped typing entirely and closed the cover of his laptop, a feat thought impossible of him, when a shadow blocked the lights emitting from the chandelier.

There was no doubt as to whom this shadow belonged to, since there was only one person who dared to approach him, and even block his light that he should, _kami forbid_, stop communicating with his most intimate and trusty friend The Pineapple. As Kyouya lifted his head, he pushed his glasses up his nose bridge, and they glinted menacingly (as they always did when he was thinking of scary things that were best left unsaid, unthought, unknown.)

"Ah, Haruhi, I knew it would be you."

_Implied meaning: Would there be anyone else who dared to disturb the Shadow King from his multi-million dollar deals?_

"It's nice to see you again, Kyouya-senpai, working so hard."

_Implied meaning: Dear dear, I wonder which unfortunate soul you are going to torture with those devil-spawn contacts of yours._

"Yes, it seems my company cannot do without me, even for a couple of hours."

_Implied meaning: Haha, I've become invaluable to my company, and yes, it is finally mine after five years, hmm, what have you done in that time?_

"How…lovely indeed."

_Implied meaning: Obnoxious bastard._

"So how have you been recently?"

_Implied meaning: You don't possess my connections or wealth; I hope you are faring well._

"Oh, I'm fine, don't worry about me; however, I should question after your state of health…There have been rumours that you're not in the best of –shall we say- physical and mental condition."

_Implied meaning: Ha! Turnabout's fair play!_

"Aaah, Haruhi, surely an _intelligent_ woman of your calibre would not believe in those…silly…rumours."

_Implied meaning: Only idiots believe in rumours. You are an idiot. Period._

"Well, one has to wonder, what with the few public appearances you put up and the pallid shade of your face…"

_Implied meaning: Die, you bastard, I hope you rot in hell!_

"Well, my company needed me, and I couldn't possibly abandon them in their time of need."

_Implied meaning: Once again, I _am _absolutely_ _indispensable to the company._

"Should I –" Haruhi started once more, but before she could utter another word, Hikaru stuffed a piece of raw tuna belly of the highest grade into her mouth, while Kaoru attempted to steer the brunette away from the lair of the Shadow King.

"Saa…why quarrel when you've not seen each other for five years?" Hikaru murmured into her ear, making her shiver involuntarily.

"No need to make…the atmosphere so tense, eh Haruhi?" Kaoru continued, putting one arm round her waist, and nuzzling his cheek against hers.

"This is a ball, enjoy yourself, alright?" She watched on unimpressed as both twins simultaneously spoke while gracing her with a haughty wink, and dragging her to the buffet table where chefs were whipping up intercontinental cuisines.

She had no idea why, but Kyouya and herself had simply become like so. The last time they met, Kyouya had been acting strange after Hikaru had confessed his love for her and she had accepted his idea of a trial date. Since that incident, Kyouya had nearly always, _somehow _appeared where they had intended to go for a date, entertaining his clients, or just simply having high tea. Things had turned out…strange…and now they were here, ending up somewhere, nowhere, talking with snarky implied meanings behind each line, each trying to outwit the other, trying to get each other riled up…

"…_delicious apple strudels topped off with a dollop of honey…Yum! Can I have yours, Takashi?" Inwardly, she paused and veered off in another direction._

She felt so very frustrated…

"_Ah, there she is! –quotes poetically from Romeo and Juliet- She is the sun, she is like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear. Her beauty makes this vault a feasting presence full of light -Haruhi, why are you leaving Daddy behind?" She runs off again in another direction, rather hastily._

…and the problem was she could not pinpoint why…

"_Ah, Beelzenef, what have we got here? The feminine-looking bisexual host of the Host Club? Shall we speak with her…-pauses to listen to Beelzenef- Ahh, yes, it would be greater fun to torture the Suou blond idiot indeed, lead the way…" Haruhi scurried off in another direction._

…why she enjoyed bickering with him, and yet felt so miserable at the same time…

"_Ohohohohohoho…Haruhi-kun, oops, Haruhi-chan, you look like a distressed girl in love just like my character in-" Haruhi halted in her steps._

Distressed girl in love…?

Love?

She was in love?

She found herself on the roof of the building, and the deep, dark-blue, blanket of sky overwhelmed her…

It was approaching twelve and the sky was cloudless, and simply a never-ending expanse of blackish hues of blue, and yet she felt so attracted to the seemingly plain but mysterious scenery.

And then something clicked.

* * *

Kyouya Ootori was fed up with the countless distractions that the ballroom offered him: the shine of the chandeliers, the sound of glasses tinkling, the light laughter of women charmed by the host club members… and deep down, he knew that none of the things above ever bothered him much, he was too used to the glitter of the façade put up by those too rich and too bored.

Nothing ever moved him, made him feel, made him confused as much as one person did. Her name was Haruhi Fujioka. Seeing her today, looking so… breathtakingly stunning, just made him freeze and he felt a stab of jealousy as he saw the twins, who constantly surrounded her, entertaining her with their witty quips and quirky poses. He caught sight of the word 'Hitachiin' stitched on the bottom of that magnificent dress and inwardly felt the knife twist in his heart. Turning away, he could not bear to look on anymore, and had wanted to escape to the roof but was intercepted by the leech Tamaki who would not let him enjoy a moment of silence, and now instead, he had run into her again.

How Kami-sama loved to torture him.

That was how he found her, gazing deeply into the twilight, as though her whole soul was entirely immersed in it, looking absolutely determined about something.

He noted how her hair would dimly shine in the ghosts of the lights from the hall, and how the cobalt blue dress wrapped her figure perfectly…

Shaking his head, while taking care not to mess up his perfectly arranged hair, he mentally berated himself not to think any further. She was an angel beyond human reach… and he wasn't even human. He was the shadow king.

He turned, almost wanting to leave the roof, and walk away from the brunette that occupied his thoughts and left him yearning for more, but a gentle voice stopped him.

'Konbanwa, senpai.'

"Ah Haruhi, I guess we meet again…"

_Implied meaning: I guess one can never run from predestined circumstances…_

"Kyouya-sempai, I suppose you're here to _take a break_?"

_Implied meaning: Are you here to hide from Tamaki and the others, too?_

"Which is deserving of myself, unlike certain others whom have wasted time towards profitless things such as dating…"

He mentally cursed himself for saying such a thing and sounding like a jealous boyfriend, but he redeemed himself with his casual flippant tone that belied just how much he cared.

"Ano, Kyouya-sempai, you can't possibly expect everyone to be as antisocial as yourself…"

_Implied meaning: Who is invading privacy now, anyway?_

"I am not antisocial, but discerning when it comes to love."

_Implied meaning: Which you obviously lack, what with dating the Hitachiins._

"I- I have no idea how your concern is needed in my affairs, Ootori-san."

_Implied meaning: Bastard, what is your problem?_

Haruhi continued; her tone clipped and surly.

"I appreciate your _apparent _concern but Ootori-san, no friend of mine would say such unkind….I don't understand why you're reacting so strongly-"

Before she knew it, she felt soft lips over her own, gasping in surprise, she tensed for a moment not knowing how to respond, and simply froze frigid. Kyouya, sensing her reaction, began to pull away slowly, and she caught sight of his eyes.

Dark brown orbs consumed in inner turmoil, every emotion from dejection to anger to numbness flashed across the surface.

For once, the shadow king was plain to read, vulnerable to human emotions.

In that split second, she made her decision. Leaning up, she closed the distance of a fraction of a centimeter that Kyouya had put between them, and reached up to place her lips over his, kissing them passionately.

As they finally pulled away, she saw him looking at her with wonderment written across his face. Amazed, he asked.

"Wh…why.. did you… I thought.. youhatedme… and then… the Hitachiins… but…" his words were all jumbled up, and finally he silenced himself when he realized what an utter fool he was making of himself, very uncharacteristic of the cool calm collected man the public knew.

She answered, plain and simple.

'Because I love you, Kyouya Ootori.'

_Implied meaning: I love you._

_-_

_-_

_-_

* * *

The newly made couple had finally come to terms with their own feelings and dealt with that thing called love after five long years, sure they had taken the long way round, but no one ever said that the path to love was easy to find or even tread upon.

Finally, they sat down on the roof together, enjoying a short moment of peace. Haruhi had placed her head, in Kyouya's lap, lying down at ease, and utterly disregarding the fact that she was wearing a million yen dress and messing it up (which meant incurring the twins' wrath later).

For the first time that particular night, she smiled. It wasn't a toothy smile, but a simple one that exuded joy and beauty…

"The sky is such a perfect shade of blue, tonight…"She mused, as Kyouya's hand covered hers.

Kyouya smiled slightly and replied, "It isn't blue at all…its black, Haruhi..."

"But it's perfect enough for me." She replied simply, and smiled up at him.

_Implied meaning: Perfect enough for me, just like you…_

His breath caught and he thought how utterly lucky he was to have someone like her, as he realized the meaning behind her words.

Shadow king, Kyouya Ootori, perhaps you're tainted with a bit of darkness and mystery, and perhaps you could be crafty and cold, but you're perfect for me, and that's sufficient.

Smiling, he leaned down to brush a strand of hair away from her face, and tucked it behind her ear. He might be merciless and cruel when it came to the cold world of business; he was the best of the best when it came down to the long upheld rule of 'only the strongest survive'; he might as some say, be less than human, how could he ever hope to possess an angel such as her, but then… even angels fall (_and land in his arms.) _He would do everything to protect this angel, to keep things just the way they are.

And they just sat there in contemplative silence under the expanse of the ebony sky so deep and dark with just a tinge of navy blue...

-owari-

* * *

greenblanket: Well, that's it. Since people requested for a sweet ending, here you have it besides we thought it'd be kind of unfair to perpetually tear them apart as it _is_ after all a kyoharu pairing, heheh. Well, as long as you guys don't forget to review, ciao. Wait, why am I speaking French? Anyways, bye, love y'all who reviewed.

inapickle: We're all so sorry for the long wait and all, but reality does bite us hard in the you-know-where, and with tests up and homework overdue and beauty sleep missed (dearly)…ah well, excuses…haha. So I actually drew up Haruhi's dress (and Kyouya in a rather OOC pose) and obviously since I'm not the best artist ever, if you guys want to take a look at it, I might post them on livejournal, other than that, thanks for reading and supporting us!

Ja!


	4. discoveries on the road home

discoveries / on / the / road / home

by inapickle and greenblanket

#20: the road home

Obviously we do not own anything outside the plot...

* * *

_Written on 17th March. Beta-ed at least four times (ad nauseum), so if there are any mistakes, please overlook them (: ._

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_I used to be my own protection; but not now._

_-Linkin Park_

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The road home is a long and lonely one.

It is dark and tinted; it smells too clean and hygienic, and it sounds too silent.

All I can hear is the gentle whirring of the engines purring as the limousine races down yet another street.

As I look out, I see the world flashing past quickly, and those bougainvilleas by the road originally fuchsia and glistening with life, seem so dead and unappreciated through the tinted windows.

Everything rushes at me too fast, and when I blink, I feel as though I've missed something, something…

Once again, I cannot help but express amazement, as I spot life strolling down the streets like they have all the time in the world. Actually, they do.

They are laughing: eyes sparkling with excitement, cheeks flushed and shared looks of contentment, as they see the first signs of spring.

To me, it is all a blur of black and grey from the tinted windows.

Unimportant; excessive; _commoner._

I frown. Commoners. They don't have a million things on their mind, they adore the simplest things, and they invent the most time-consuming activities...

_How can one live so untroubled, so unbidden and unrestricted? How can one waste precious time doing such unnecessary activities?_

I glance down at my Blackberry: Ootori-sama, you have 312 emails unread, 34 missed calls, 27 proposals to go through, and 9 appointments in the afternoon.

My eyes feel tired, and in one swift movement, I remove my glasses and gently rub my eyes. They feel sore, witness to the many hours spent staring at the neon screen of my laptop.

On some days, this is all I know of, losing all sense of time as I work tirelessly on it, concluding million dollar deals, bankrupting my rivals, and the occasional hacking to find out intelligence that I would otherwise not know.

It has become the most familiar face to me, as the years pass, but recently someone's face is fast replacing that position in my heart, stealing the limelight of my thoughts like a thief, a pretty oblivious one at that.

o

**8**

o

The road home is awkward and strange and unfamiliar, as though I am intruding into a whole new world. I don't belong, and I don't want to.

I know that I don't fit in (I stick out like a sore thumb with the Burberry glasses, polished Gucci shoes, and the sleek silver Tag Huer watch peeking out of my Ouran uniform.)

I am standing, holding onto a handrail (has it been sanitized?)

People stare at me unabashed _(have they no shame?)._

School girls giggle _(Am I some kind of eye-candy that could fulfill their 'The Right One' status)_.

Men looked at me as though I am what they once dreamt to be: Polished, professional, handsome, cool, collected, powerful, smart, and rich.

Elderly looked with approbation, though some seemed to detest me for being snobbish.

I elicit more looks and silence them easily with a gleam of my glasses.

The ride is jerky, and uncomfortable. But the air is warm with the exhalations of the people, and the atmosphere is alive with the chattering of the crowd. I can hear today's gossip; what are the latest fashion, the hottest nightspots, the coolest bands and models, and ways to become a billionaire.

I smirk, as I realize that most of the brands they are quoting and rattling off belong to me, either directly or indirectly.

Suddenly, I feel awkward. I do not belong here, in this subway full of commoners and their petty concerns, and mundane lives. I will never fit in here, and I wonder dismally how would I ever fit into her life and heart? Full of those commoner thoughts.

Unsettled, I look down at her, all I see are her limpid chestnut eyes giving me a silent reassurance. I am content.

My glasses gleam when I see the telltale twitch of her lips as she hears the schoolgirls tittering excitedly about how they intend to ask for my mobile number.

She might be the most oblivious person in the world, but even she can feel jealousy when it stares at her in the eye, and consequently proceeds to knock her over the head. I am glad. I know she cares for me. With the way she is, I get precious little reassurance that she even knows I'm alive, much less fall in love with me.

Then the train jerks violently as it turns to the left, and she, who has been inattentive, falls against my chest due to the inertia.  
I grab her waist to steady her, and immediately the fangirls cease their conversation and faint promptly, reminding me distinctly of the Host Club's customers.

She looks at me apologetically, while I return her another of my (prized) smirks. I have become quite proficient in giving them after a lifetime of practicing them.

And as the sun retreats beneath the horizon, sending streaks of orange and pink and purple into the fading serene sky, the train continues to languidly roll past, and the overwhelming myriad of pastel colours puts me at ease.

I realize with a sudden jolt.

It seems the ride wasn't so bad…after all.

o

**8**

o

The road home is peaceful and enjoyable

_(because she is beside me)._

She seems fascinated with the LCD screen on the facing wall and the refrigerator by the side.

_("How can these operate in here, do you have some sort of electricity generator in your car?"_

"_Ahh, no, but I do have solar-powered panels on the roof, you see."_

_I explain patiently to her, amused as she goggles at me with wide, unbelieving eyes.)_

She treats the leather seats like some sort of precious jewel, sitting on it tentatively, as though afraid to crease it.

_("I am _not_ going to give you the opportunity to increase my debt because of some measly leather crease that requires grooming and conditioning and whatnot..."_

"_Ahh, then you might want to get off the car, petrol is expensive nowadays, Haruhi."_

_My eyeglasses gleam as she sputters in outrage.)_

She tinkles around with the screen separating the driver from the passenger, smiling and saying "Sumimasen" every time the driver catches her at it. _("Are you really sure it's sound-proof, Kyouya-senpai?")_

I watch her, as she rolls the grey-tinted windows down, and breathes in the crisp autumn air with great delight, taking pleasure in the falling swirls of red, orange and yellow leaves.

She notices my staring and greets me with a sweet smile, one that transforms her usual stolid expression into one that could light up the entire limousine with the sheer beauty of it.

"Why do you keep them closed all the time, Kyouya-senpai? The air is so stiff and _synthetic _in here."

"For privacy, Haruhi," I answered simply, "It is essential that nosy reporters get nothing out of me. Unlike you, any 'trash' on the Ootoris is great fodder for the media."

She scowls, affronted by the insult.

As I reach for the Blackberry, she stops my hand and tells me quite firmly, her brown eyes flashing with stern warning, and her expression austere.

"A gentleman does not busy himself with other irrelevant devices when he is in a meeting."

An amused grin plays across my lips, and I reply lazily, catching her at her own game. "The pot calling the kettle black."

She blushes but when she realizes the underlying meaning, she retorts "I'm not a gentleman, Kyouya-senpai," and whacks my hand playfully.

For the second time today, she smiles.

Albeit a little shyly, because she realizes that she has been quite impolite, but continues to tell me that the limousine is sufficiently equipped to be a home.

I smirk again.

And I watch with a half smile playing across my lips as she mutters something along the lines of 'rich bastards' and 'nothing better to do with their money…' under her breath.

And as my driver drops her off outside her apartment _(which drew a group of idle and curious commoners)_, she smiles and tells me, "Kyouya-senpai, don't you forget the promise. This time, I have sat your mode of transport, next time; you have to follow mine - _whatever it is_."

Suddenly, the reading glasses that she has put on gleams - eerily similar to mine - and I inwardly wonder how bad an influence I am on her.

My skin tingles.

She smirks, knowing she has gained the upper hand now.

And once, maybe just this once, I enjoyed going home in my limousine.

o

**8**

o

The road home is too windy, too risky and tooo...

"HARUHI! Slow down, damnit!"

I am seriously regretting making a deal with her to 'exchange transportations'.

Her only reply is her hearty laughter and she blatantly ignores my beautifully phrased request and continues speeding down the hill.

"Ahh, Ootori-sama, I have never seen you so expressive! Such crude words to escape from your mouth?" her eyes twinkle, mischief dancing across her bright brown eyes, her hair blown back by the wind, and her cheeks rosy from the exertion.

She looks absolutely stunning. And just for that one moment in time, I am held transfixed by her innocent beauty, forgetting that she has insulted me, and forgetting that I am sitting in the backseat of her bicycle, and an extremely unsteady and fast one at that.

"Don't look downwards; the scenery is beautiful, pansy-sama!"

I did not just grunt. Ootoris do not grunt. I did not just appear weak and cowardly. Ootoris do not show any signs of weakness in the face of adversity-

But as the bicycle jerks and jolts again, my hands clenches her sleeves even tighter, and I close my eyes, thinking furiously that we are going to fall and get injured and it will be _all her fault_ and that I will definitely make her pay for my hospital bills, and charge her double if my glasses broke, especially since they are tailor made to the milli-degree, and…

Damn it again.

How is it possible that she, a commoner, a peasant, a young girl, can make the unshakable, infallible, perfectly-collected Ootori Kyouya that is me, lose my composure with _just_ biking?

How absurd; Ootori's _never _lose their composure.

"Kyouya." Her tone is firm.

"Honestly just look up; you're not going to die, and it would be a waste, after I biked all the way here just to let you appreciate the scenery," she says, trying to inject more conviction into her voice.

Scowling, I decide to risk it, soothing myself with thoughts of the amount I can make her pay if anything happens to me. Maybe I can claim emotional trauma… I will have to call my lawyer as soon as this ordeal is over, and my therapist, and my masseuse and _of course_ the hairstylist…

Conscious that my reputation as a cool, composed bishounen was being ruined by the minute, I allow my gaze to travel up and my breath caught, for that moment.

The scenery is amazing.

The trees seem to extend their branches as a sign of welcome to us, and the sakura trees are in bloom, sending occasional showers of pale sweet pink floating down. Not far away, there is a stunning log-cabin that looks so homely and complements the scenery. As we continue on the sun-kissed, trodden path, I think inwardly, that maybe commoner inventions aren't such an utter waste of time after all.

"AHHH...KAMI-SAMA!" my thoughts are broken by the shrill cry of Haruhi and immediately I know something is _dreadfully _wrong. I brace for impact, and snuggle my head into her neck, praying, praying, that it will not be fatal, as she swerves violently.

Before I know it, we are thrown off as the bike collides with the thick trunk of a tree, and we tumble into the nearby grass. I hug her close to me, as I take the initial impact for her, cradling her in my arms. My glasses are nowhere to be found. I roll my eyes, and do the only thing I can.

"HARUHI!" _What was that girl thinking?_

"T-There was a squirrel, Kyouya-senpai."

"Your debt is to be increased by 700 000 yen."

She gulps.

Despite all that, I find a small smile playing at my lips.

I seem to be doing that more often. Smiling that is.

o

**8**

o

The road home is sometimes pretty unexpected.

It is cold; the snowflakes are spiraling downwards as we trot on the soft slush.

She is unusually silent, staring at the snowflakes with a certain sort of amazement and child-like wonder.

"Do you know that each snowflake is unique and different?"

"…"

"Ne, Kyouya-senpai, don't you think we are all snowflakes?" My eyebrow quirks, demanding for an elaboration.

"We appear so harsh on the outside, but," She holds out her hands and catches a snowflake, which promptly melts in her hand, "we are actually all soft on the inside."

"..."

She never ceases to amaze me with her philosophical musings.

For a moment, she fidgets, as though inwardly struggling with some sort of decision.

"Kyouya-senpai, no, I mean, Ootori Kyouya..." She paused, hesitating.

I watch her. Her cheeks are unusually flushed, and her eyes are darting everywhere but at me. She seems ill at ease. I know something is wrong. And then she suddenly clasps her hands together, and stares straight into my eyes, hers blazing with determination.

"Will you marry me?"

I am shocked, to say the least. Hmm...Is that some kind of hypothetical question in which girlfriends always ask to see if their other halves have devoted any commitment to them?

"Honestly, I thought I should approach first, you know, just to see how you would feel, and to commemorate my cross-dressing days..." She grins up at me nervously, tucking her hair behind her ear. An unconscious reaction whenever she is tense, I note.

An idea presents itself to me, and I revel in the intelligence of it. I frown, my glasses gleam, and I remove her hands from mine, gently.

My tone light, I place a pleasant smile on my face and reply softly, "I don't think so, Haruhi."

I see her tense, and bite her bottom lip uncertainly. Her disappointment rolls off in waves, palatably cutting and bitter in the wintry air. She rubs her forearms, and almost turns to leave.

This is my moment.

I reach out a gloved hand to her, holding her shoulder lightly and gently turn her around to face me. Gripping her chin, I tilt it up to meet mine. I see the unshed tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, and her dejected face almost makes me feel bad for lying to her.

Smiling tenderly down at her, I go down on one knee in the soft snow, and I retrieve a tiny jewelry box from my winter jacket. Opening it up to face her, I say simply.

'Haruhi Fujioka, will _**you**_ marry me?'

I see the shock flash across her face, then rapidly replaced by amazement, and finally a tenderness so beautiful that makes my heart ache.

'What do you think, Kyouya Ootori, you bastard?"

I guess that is answer enough as she pulls me up and launches into my arms.

And that is that, because I will never, ever, ever, let Tamaki or the twins or Mori or Honey know that Haruhi proposed to me first.

o

**8**

o

The road home is warm, lively, and comfortable, with Ootori Haruhi's arms around my hand, as we walk down the same path that we had biked years ago.

"Ootori-sama, what do you think would happen if I had _secretly_ recorded you screaming and hollering like a girl when we were biking down?"

I freeze.

Laughing furiously as she takes note of my expression, and says, "I think I'm the only one to get such reactions out of you, Kyouya."

The tension that gripped my heart relaxed and I smile.

_The nerve of her… _

She is learning quickly, my cunningness and astuteness that is, and I doubt it is a good thing.

Smirking as I take her on her game, I tell her, "In that case...I will simply have to decrease your monthly allowance for trickery, dear!"

She pouts in reply.

o

o

o

o

-owari

* * *

inapickle: Finally, another one-shot out! Thanks greenblanket for betaing and like totally emotionally scarring yourself with my atrocious grammar :D. And to everyone else, watch the spin-off of Death note, L: Change the World. It is totally awesome and L is really cute in the movie. ((: See you next month!

Green Blankie: Yaaaay I changed the ending so it's happier now don't you just love the part where he rejects her? Yes? Yes? Yes? -Beams proudly-

ps. All in favour of me removing the second entry - fence, say aye!

Green Blankie: AYE!!


	5. electricity redux

Electricity Redux

**Electricity Redux**

by greenblanket and beta-ed by inapickle

#3 - Jolt!

Bisco Hatori is the owner of these bishounens, unfortunately.

_NB: Fence has been taken down for rewriting. Apologies._

**-**

**-**x**-**

Redux: /rɪˈdʌks/

-adjective

brought back; returned

-x-

-

'Ohayo, Kyouya-kun! Gomen ne, I couldn't visit you so often this year, because of the baby. You didn't miss me much did you, little brother?"

'Fuyumi-neesan. You're looking well, after the delivery.'

'Of course! Who do you think I am? After all I couldn't just leave my beloved brother all alone, could I?'

'I see. Being a mother hasn't matured you one bit.'

'Ne, ne, don't be so mean, Kyouya-kun. You're the youngest in the family, you know.'

'Yes, and infinitely more mature as compared to you. A sad fact I have to be reminded of every single time you visit me.'

'How dare you mock your kindest sister, hmph, ungrateful little brother… …Ano, Kyouya-kun…?'

'Yes, Fuyumi?'

'You… you're different… you sound …you look…. Just different I guess.'

'Different, you say?'

'Yes… Why though? Hmm…'

'Is that so?'

'I see now! Where did your glasses go? You see, I was feeling this sense of unease from earlier on, like there was something off about you, when I came in and all. Hmm… now that I think about it, I've rarely seen you without them; they're your trademark, aren't they? I wonder what happened to make you decide not to wear them. Must have been something big like, Oh a bicycle knocked you over while you were strolling along the street minding your own business, and your glasses flew off your face and got crushed under the merciless wheels of the bike. And you, whipped out your hand phone, calling your personal mafia to drag the poor man off to the seventh level of hell and made him…'

'Fuyumi, stop. And no, I wouldn't go strolling along the street for no reason, would I? There are limousines to take care of that.'

'No…? Oh I know! Maybe an alien beamed you up while you were sitting in your limousine, air-conditioning and all, and took your glasses for experimentation, to improve the eyesight of the alien species!'

'Fuyumi… if I really had communications with aliens, and they wanted my glasses, I would have struck a deal with them, selling them rights to the production of the local optometrist company in exchange for knowledge on alien technology, and would _still_ be in a meeting preparing to unveil to the world my find and I wouldn't be here with you at this instant then.'

'…You've really changed, Kyouya. Before, you would never have played along with me like that, dismissing me and my ludicrous claims with an imperious wave of your hand. I can't believe you're actually sitting here talking to me, with that impossible smirk on your face, Kami-forbid. You look…relaxed, happy even. This is so surreal; truly tell me, what happened to the Real you?'

'…Nothing much, except that I have acquired a different perspective on life, that is all.'

'Wow, my little brother's actually changing for someone. That's a first.'

'Did I even mention it was for someone?'

'You don't have to spell it out, it's written all over your face, darling. Let me guess, is it her?'

'I will neither confirm nor deny your allegations.'

'Kyouya-kun, don't go all lawyer on me, just when you were acting so cute too.'

'I am not cute.'

'Denial, brother dearest. So, you still haven't told me; enlighten me on the mystery of your missing glasses.'

'She said they made me look too intimidating.'

'And you listened to her like a good little boy?'

'…'

'Amazing, she's got the heir of the famous Ootori Company wrapped around her little finger. Pity, she's oblivious to boot.'

'Fuyumi.'

'Fine, fine, I know when to keep my mouth zipped. Little brother's seeee-creeeet. Shhh…'

'Evidently you don't. You seem to get more annoying as you grow older, old woman.'

'What! You did not just call me old, Kyouya. Even as my brother, that's an unforgivable sin. All the massages and spas and manicures and stylists that I went to, every single one of them would agree that I look young for my age, because I take such good care of my skin. So, don't you dare insult me for being old. You have no idea how lucky you are to have such a youthful older sister, Kyouya-kun.'

'They must be blind. And, since when has you being young, which is obviously untrue, affected me in any way?'

'Harrumph… you're so un-cute Kyouya-kun. Now that I think about it, there _is_ something else different about you… Wait, what exactly are you wearing?'

'Apparently they are called bermudas and T-shirt.'

'Where did your signature Salvatore Ferragamo suits go to?'

'Dry-cleaning.'

'But you have a whole wardrobe of them, and unless you decided to dry clean all of them _at the same time_, there is absolutely no way for you to be deprived of them.'

'…'

'Fine, fine, I get it. Don't glare at me that way.'

'Fuyumi, sometimes, you're too loud for your own good.'

'That line would have been much more convincing with the glint of your glasses, which you're currently sadly lacking. Anyway, so tell me, what did she do to make the uptight Ootori Kyouya exchange his beloved suits for something more casual?'

'She said they made me look like a shrewd thirty-something businessman.'

'Hahahaha……And… she didn't get her head bitten off or your personal mafia after her, or cursed with twenty years of bad luck, or-'

'What do you think, Fuyumi-_neesan_?'

'Somehow, I don't exactly feel like knowing…but really, Kyouya, I'm glad there's finally someone …someone who is able to move you and change you.'

'…Yes, I guess, I'm glad too.'

_There are no other ways to describe her. She is like a bolt of thunder on a sunny day. The same way she came into my life. Before I knew it, she had already taken up such a huge place in my life, in my heart… and I do not exactly know when and how she came in, but I am glad she did. She made me realize so many things._

'You've really grown up, little brother.'

'…'

_There is so much she did that I cannot explain. A jolt of electricity that woke me up from my coldness… I guess that is the best way to describe her… Electricity. It is not beautiful or ugly; it moves through things, and illuminates them by itself, though you cannot really see anything special about it, it just is. But when it passes through your life, before long you realize you cannot live without it. It has become so basic, so necessary, and yet every time she brushes past you, passes through your life, it jolts you awake. There is so much more… so much more to … her._

'Kyouya, there's someone calling for you, from the gates, nii-chan, says her name is Haruhi.'

'Give me that phone. NOW!'

'No need to shout brother dearest, you can have it.'

'Ohayo, Haruhi? … Now? Yes…Alright. I'll be out there in a minute. Wait for the limousine.'

'Ano, Fuyumi, will you be fine? I need to leave…'

'She's waiting, little brother, go. I'm not disabled. I'll be just fine here, you know.'

'Are you sure, if…'

'Yes, yes, be on your way.'

'All right then, I'll call a limousine for you. Be careful, all right?'

'I got it, don't act like an obaa-san. What are you still waiting for? Get out of here!'

'Hai, ja, Fuyumi-neesan. Arigatou.'

'…Ja ne, Kyouya-kun.'

Silently, I thanked the girl. Whoever she is, she had changed my brother into the man As I looked out of the window from the third level window of the mansion, I could not help but feel my lips curving up into an affectionate smile. Watching my little brother running down the stairs, then smoothing his clothes self-consciously before walking out of the front door, opening the imperious gates of the Ootori mansion with the remote, where Haruhi was waiting at the side of the limousine. I caught a last glimpse of his face when he kissed her on the cheek and ushered her into the car. It was beautiful, as only the face of someone who is in love could be.

Silently, I thanked the girl. Whoever she is, she had changed my brother into the man I always wished he could be.

The cold merciless jerk in the business world; she, she had opened up another side of him that no one had been able to touch. Jolting him awake.

Like electricity.

-

-

-

-owari

greenblankie: Hello all ye fellow readers, I hate writing author's notes. End.

inapickle: Simple and clean, dear!

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	6. of handcuffs and promises

#21 – violence; plunder/ pillage; extortion

Of handcuffs and promises

* * *

He had to hurry.

He had barely managed to take advantage of the time the guards exchanged duties to sneak into the museum unnoticed, glancing down at his wristwatch, he only had thirty seconds left before the guards got into position again, effectively blocking all retreat routes if he got caught before he got passed the second perimeter, but he knew he would, he always did.

It was a prerequisite for his occupation: Stealth, nimbleness, heartlessness.

Moving around lithely and swiftly, he finally snuck past the less than qualified fools that were blocking his way. He measured things in terms of efficiency and profit. And to him, the situation before him was a simple equation. Block me equates death. Though he was feeling rather merciful today, so he refrained from killing and settled with knocking them out quickly with a concentrated tap at a point on their necks.

Leaving a trail of unconscious bodies in his wake, Kyouya Ootori approached his real target. Instantaneously, all inner doubts of reasons he went through all the trouble to obtain it, dissipated.

The Blood Tears of the Constantinople.

The necklace itself was the epitome of seduction. Inset with brilliant-cut rubies and black diamonds in an intricate fashion, the tear-drop shaped jewels glowed with an inner flame, yet at the same time, it was a sight of melancholy.

Among all the masterpieces in the Louvre, this was the only item that could captivate him and entice his senses, tempting him so far away from home ground and putting himself at so much risk.

It was thoroughly worthy to come under his (_Ootori Kyouya, professional larcenist)_ arms.

He smirked.

"You can come out now, Fujioka…"

He would willingly allow his (notorious) reputation to be stripped if he allowed the mere beauty of a necklace to distract his sense of hearing. Kyouya has been in this profession for his whole life after all…and used to hearing her soft pitfalls against the marble flooring.

She stepped out of the darkness, clad in the standard uniform of police officers, a pristine white top with stripes and padding across the shoulders, and marine blue trousers. Instead of intimidating him or asserting a sense of authority that getup on her just made him think cute. She was so petite and small-boned, plus the delicate sweep of her eyebrows, huge innocent limpid-brown eyes, and silky coffee-coloured hair... well, he always had a thing for uniforms (especially her in them).

"I'm sorry to say, that your great plan has been foiled, _again_…" She starts off monotonously, but her eyes radiated severity.

He chuckled, genuinely amused. "Fujioka, dearest, you always repeat the same thing that I'm beginning to see them as pick-up lines…Since when has it ever come true?"

Suddenly, the shadows lightened to reveal another person walking towards his direction.

"Since today, you jack of all knaves! For today, I'll protect my Haruhi from all possible dangers! And don't you dare call her dearest!! It's exclusively for her daddy only." He drifted into his inner mind theatrics which involved saving the damsel in distress and Haruhi blushing prettily, crying _"Oh, senpai!"_ in mock trepidation and fainting into his arms.

"Ne, senpai, will you focus? I need a little help here… I really have no idea why my superior sent you to aid me…More of a hindrance than aid if you asked me."

The beautiful dream was (unceremoniously) shattered.

Suou Tamaki looked around and found Haruhi…in the arms of the intruder…with a paper thin knife placed against her neck with enough pressure, not to draw blood, but enough to show that he meant business. No matter how innocuous a paper-thin blade looked, in the hands of _the_ Kyouya Ootori, it looked as threatening as a samurai sword or a katana. He wielded it with such ferocity and portrayed the image of a ninja. She should know- she had firsthand experience of it, as he had used similar blade to severe the carotid artery of a man at least a couple hundred paces away from him.

Trapped in his arms, he bent down to whisper seductively in her ear, his voice a low purr, as strands of his hair tickled her neck.

"Seems we always end up in this position, Fujioka…flesh to flesh…"

He grinned with considerable satisfaction as he noted that she shivered slightly.

"You! You scum of the earth, unhand my princess this instant. How dare you sully her name with your dirty hands; how dare you tease her chastity, you voyeuristic lad!"

Even more anxious now to get out of his vice-like grip on her, she struggled, though unsuccessfully against his (_infinitely more muscular and stronger) _arms.

"Argh…" Haruhi screamed in utter frustration, and Kyouya's smirk widened.

"It seems… we have an intruder…A clown to be exact." Kyouya said, eyes hostile, though his tone was light and teasing.

By this point in time, our beloved heroine, Haruhi had long abandoned any hopes of being rescued by Tamaki, who seemed to have forgotten the use of the revolver.

Afterall, Tamaki was never that proficient in the _action department. _He worked better as bait or an undercover cop considering his tendency for acting and theatrics.

"Will you look at that, _senpai_, seems Fujioka's rubbing against me in her own will, who's guilty of outrage of modesty now?"

Tamaki sputtered, frowning and pacing madly, muttering '_How dare he' 's and 'That bastard''s _furiously.

"It's not like I have a choice, Ootori." Haruhi bit back harshly.

"Indeed it seems so, however I'm still reluctant to return you into the hands of that crazy fool, it worries me so, Fujioka. A pity you never fully appreciate the extent I worry about you."

"Senpai, what are you doing – sitting at that corner?! Ootori, your concern is appreciated but unwarranted. There's nothing else you can do, our police force has surrounded the Louvre, you can forget about escaping." Haruhi had mechanically recited the whole paragraph, as another essential part of the arrest.

"And yet you forget you're in my control, _again_, Haruhi dearest." He taunted. How he adored the way a tiny crease would appear on her forehead when she was furious and how her coffee eyes would stare at him with righteous indignation…

Haruhi frowned. There was no way in hell she was going to let him escape after repeatedly doing so, and being in that same damned compromising position yet again!

Stomping on his foot with all her might, she paddle-kicked him furiously in the front (which led to the dropping of the knife), and instinctively snapped her handcuffs against his hand.

Smiling, as she was finally in control of the situation, she sighed and chanted. "K.O. _Kyouya Ootori. _You are guilty of pillage, violence and extortion. You can say anything, but from now onwards, it will be used against you in court, so I advise you to keep your big mouth shut. And at the same time, keep your nonsense to a minimal level also known as zero."

"Hmm…Nonsense… does that include, I love you, Fujioka Haruhi, and I want to kiss you?"

"Very funny Ootori. Penalty of crime is death – "

She was cut off by a pair of lips crushing against hers.

She was shocked, her large hazelnut eyes widening as his lips continued to instill pressure against hers. His lips were, surprisingly soft and warm against hers and she felt his hand gradually slipping down her waist to cup her rear, sliding down her hips.

He leaned back and allowed a cocky grin to slide over his face.

"You never ever take my words for granted, do you?"

Haruhi was stunned; she had absolutely no idea what to say, what to do, how to act anymore. It was as though her confidence and courage and quick-thinking skills had simply vanished and all that was left was a huge question mark on her mind.

The tense atmosphere was suddenly broken by "Let her go. Now."

Tamaki was furious.

"Take your filthy hands off my fiancée, Ootori. Take your filthy lips off hers! Baka! Or I'll shoot."

He had enough, Tamaki might be sinking into those ridiculous fantasies of his that usually included lace dresses and her, all the time, but this time, he would do anything to save Haruhi, including using a revolver, as much as he hated seeing the bullet piercing through the papery-thin skin and hitting vital organs and causing internal haemorrhage, er,…point is, He. Would. Do. Anything. To. Save. His. Princess, yes.

Suou Tamaki was a prince, on a mission to save his princess-in-distress from the hands of the evil Shadow er, monster, and he was not about to be lose to a robber-cum-fiancee snatcher.

He could see himself waving the Excalibur down and slashing the monster in its scaly stomach, emerging victorious, and with that thought in mind, he slipped into the 007 James Bond pose, with the point-four-five revolver focused on Kyouya's forehead.

"_You're going down, Shadow king!"_

--

The cocky grin slipped off his face like soap down wet skin.

For the first time, anxiety settled in Kyouya's heart. _Not because of the revolver, no, but because _"Are you his fiancée, Fujioka?"

He received a blank stare. Haruhi thanked Kami that they were in the dark and he could not see the deep red blush that was arising on her cheeks. She would never let him see her blush!

"What has that got to do with you, Ootori. You're unarmed. You're not going anywhere. You're under arr-"

He was angry, very angry.

"Didn't I tell you to wait?!"

"Ano…Ootori-san, I'm the law-enforcer here and you're the law-breaker here and you are ordering me?" She asked curtly.

He thought he was becoming demented and crazy over her lack of understanding.

"Baka! FUJIOKA! I meant wait, for _me_! Don't you remember?"

"_It's funny how we always find ourselves in the same position, chest to chest, skin to skin, and your hands in mine!"_

"_Bastard." Was her succinct and eloquent reply._

"_Tsk. If you persist in being so headstrong, you'll never get hitched, Fujioka. I wonder which man would marry someone so…" He whispered into her ear, trailing one elegant finger down her jaw line._

"_Baka!"_

"…_vulgar…"_

"_Let go of me!"_

"…_obstinate…"_

"_One day you're going to pay for this!"_

"…_and torn by hatred?" He grinned cheekily._

_She glared back._

"_Your marriage prospects don't look good, Haruhi…"_

"_Haruhi's only for friends, Ootori."_

"_You wound me so, Haruhi, but don't worry, even though your language is off-putting, your height is not impressive, you don't care about your looks, don't wear makeup, or even look like a lady, especially with that boyish haircut of yours, I'm willing to marry such a bride."_

"_There is no merit in doing all of these Ootori, you're wasting time to escape."_

"_Time wasted on you is a precious moment to be harvested, but remember," He muttered, tying her tightly to a pillar and wrapping rope around her wrists in dead knots before putting her revolver back into its holder and patting it lightly._

"_Wait, for me, Fujioka…"_

_And he walked away , into the twilight leaving her heart pounding quite madly._

End Flashback

"_Ahh, that_." She thought and nodded to herself.

Tamaki stilled.

Kyouya seethed in anger. For all of his expert calculations and excellent foresight, he had failed to foresee this piece of news.

_How could she, how could she liaise with another man when she promised?_

In frustration, he rebutted her, with her own words, delivered with a twist. "You, Fujioka Haruhi, are guilty of violating my thoughts, pillaging my heart and extorting my soul." As he used his uncuffed hand to cuff her wrist to his.

"Eh?" was her intelligent reply.

Haruhi was honestly shocked. She had simply supposed that he was an over-friendly thief who took particular pleasure in tormenting her by escaping the long arm of law especially the missions administered by her, over and over repeatedly, and occasionally taking her hostage, just to emphasize her incompetence.

"That…isn't a legal crime, Ootori. It doesn't really stand."

Kyouya was infuriated. Somehow that Fujioka maybe the best in her legion of cops but in love…she was denser than a block of wood. He needed to clear things up, fast. Feeling dangerous emotions build up in him as he stared at the blonde idiot in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he might just kill blonde, already his other uncuffed hand was itching for a blade or a gun that would be nice, blowing his brains out.

'Haruhi, is that man your fiancé, or not? Answer me plainly.'

Rolling her eyes, she simply answered. 'Seriously, no…That man is not my fiancé, and I am not engaged, he is just my senior in the police force, he's in charge of formulating defense tactics. Besides, do I look like the kind to get engaged at twenty four?'

Letting out a deep breath, he didn't know he was holding, Kyouya felt his tense body relax, and the killing intent of his right hand went away, well almost. He pretty much didn't like anyone near his Haruhi.

"Well, Haruhi, it seems like we're in a lovely position; we're permanently cuffed together till I decide to so charitably unlock the chains."

"W-wait, these are my handcuffs, I have the keys in my.." she paused as she searched her right pocket, finding it blissfully empty of everything except a used tissue, an iPod, scraps of paper, but no keys. Her eyes widened as she realized what happened.

"Y-you thief! Give the keys back! You stole them from me." And she blushed as she realized exactly when he did it:

_His lips were, surprisingly soft and warm against hers. And she felt his hand slipping down to cup her rear, sliding down her hips. _

"Damn you, Kyouya, rot in hell." Was her venomous reply, cloaking her embarrassment.

" I am a professional thief after all, and of course, I know I'm going down to meet the grim reaper, after all I've done… but it's what I get to do _now_ that is important, no?" was his smooth reply.

"Whatever, you idiot. Actually, it's better I have you chained to me, now I can finally catch you and bring you in, there's no way you can escape. After all, you refuse to release me from your grasp. I have plenty of time and I can just camp down here and wait. So there." She said, pouting like a little child.

"Aah, but you forget the SWAT teams are outside, what would they think of your competency if they see you chained to a thief, against your will, and helpless?"

She snarled at him. It was hard enough being one of the few women in the police academy, all the way until she became a police officer, it was a profession dominated and ruled by males. Females were often belittled, and she had a hard enough time proving her worth to her colleagues, and being accepted as 'one of the guys' if they saw her in this position…. No doubt her precarious position would tilt even further, out of her favor. She had to get the keys. Fast.

"Kyouya, look, I'll do anything for you, if you give me the keys."

"Are you sure, Haruhi? Anything, at all?"

"Well, not everything, for example I would never ever stop chasing you…"

"Now that sounded interesting… but Haruhi, it's always the guy who takes the initiative to chase the girl, if you turn around and chase the guy, you'll seem too aggressive, but it's okay, I like that in you."

"Argh, you're impossible."

She turned away from him to sulk.

There was a soft clang as metal hit the floor. Turning her head slightly, she looked to see what it was. Kyouya had tossed the keys to the handcuffs on the floor. Her eyes alight with hope, she bent down to reach for it, but was stopped by a sharp tug at the wrist.

"Remember the deal, Haruhi, anything."

Looking up at his smoldering eyes and too smug smirk, she wondered what she had gotten herself into.

Gulping, her eyes darted quickly between the keys and Kyouya. She made her decision.

"Alright, whatever you say, Ootori." Somehow, something foreboding tugged at her nerves_. Sealing the deal with the devil._ She had no idea how much trouble she was in.

But for now, she unlocked the handcuffs within seconds, and in the blink of an eye, there was no sign of Ootori. Except his taunting words that drifted from the night.

"_Such a kinky night, ne, Ha-ru-hi. Handcuffs and promises. Too bad the Blood Tears is a fake."_

He had gotten away again, this time, carrying her promise that was worth more than the Blood Tears of the Constantinople, and as she slipped onto the floor in relief, as the SWAT team poured in, she could not help but wonder if she had made the right decision…

* * *

To be continued if the authors are not actually lazy slackers…(but we are!)

in a pickle : reason for delay: o levels are coming. We are not super-intelligent humans. Please read and review for chapter 5 too (It is not a repost of discoveries on the road home but simply another story titled electricity redux.) Fence has been taken down for rewriting. Thanks to greenblanket for editing and input, would never know what to do with this story without you. ((:

Ps. Please do inform us if the characters were ooc.


	7. a matter of perspective

A Matter of Perspective

By inapickle and greenblanket

#25- fence

_Written on 29__th__ November 2008_

_Note: Spoilers for OHSHC volume 5, chapter18, in which it is the summer holidays in June and Haruhi goes to get a holiday job – helping out at Ranka's friend, Sonoda Misuzu mansion in Karuizawa. The Host club decides to visit her. Unfortunately there is only one available guest room with one bed, so Misuzu starts a competition to compare one's 'refreshing' _points_, and the victor gets to stay. _

_---_

It was a glorious day in Karuizawa, no doubt, and Misuzu's stately mansion was a beautiful sight to behold, although it could hardly compare to the least of Kyouya's mansions, but there was a quaint sort of charm to it with the sunlight reflecting off its white-washed walls and ornate pillars, as if plunging its visitors back into the rich simplicity of the Victorian era. With lush greenery enfolding around the building, it seemed to blend in within nature, like a prized treasure amongst Mother Nature's creation. The scenery was, indeed, refreshing.

Glancing briefly at the idiot attempting to repair the fence and getting a swollen thumb in return for his efforts, he continued scanning the scene before him. The twins were turning on their charisma and women were flocking to them like moth to the flame. This was unsurprising considering that was what made them so valuable to the host club.

Slightly to the left, Mori was being Mori, strong, silent, brooding, and carrying heavy objects of furniture around for no obvious purpose. Hani was blissfully occupied with staring at the king's swollen thumb, poking it tentatively, hearing the Suoh king howl, and poking it again and being cute as usual.

Allowing himself a rare smile, he closed his eyes for a brief moment and let his fingers follow the comforting mould of the tea cup. He knew for a reason why it had been wise to back out of the game to begin with. With the entire host club around there would be enough chaos to go around for second servings.

Kyouya took a sip of the chilled green tea, as he embraced the slight touches of a zephyr, reclining against a lounge chair. Once again he returned to the lively scene before him. Tamaki was _still _busy painting and mending some part of the fence with Hani, and it seemed to look much worse under their ministrations. The fence was now a chapped black with planks of wood nailed the wrong side up.

Mori was busy cutting wood, earning appraising looks from Sonoda Misuzu and her guests for a very refreshing act, whilst the twins were scheming in some corner. How rather predictable.

Leaning back into the deck chair, he surveyed the sky and returned to his thoughts. It was not as though Ootori Kyouya did not want to win, no.

It was also not the fact that his competitors were far too strong to beat, or too powerful to overcome. Kyouya was never one to lose to begin with, and if any, his power, family status and a private army to boot almost always helped to accomplish his goals.

Yet the youngest son of the Ootori family still sat there, teacup in hand and the all too familiar smirk plastered on his face.

Because, some things could not be bought by money.

In fact, some _problems _were caused by money.

His smirk faltered just a little bit, without his knowledge. And there was little indeed that happened without his express knowledge.

His eyes followed the figure of a petite Haruhi as she sprinkled water onto the bed of purplish-blue roses, in full bloom under the June summer sunlight. He smiled wistfully at the image of Haruhi, her boyish locks covered by a bandana, wearing a girly-pink-frilly apron upon a cotton white blouse and Capri pants. For a moment, she paused, her cheeks sun-kissed, and used the back of her hand to wipe away the bead of sweat that threatened to roll down from her forehead.

It was such a picture of innocence, of normalcy, of common folks. He mused silently that she looked so much more natural at work than the gardeners in his own mansion, who wore Gucci tank tops and slacks and Ray-ban sunglasses while at work, faces flushed and pained as though the sunlight was too strong for their pale skins, which would need the care of moisturizers later.

His line of sight followed her until her image disappeared behind the cover of something white. He squinted and lurched forward… Something woody. Something interfering, something annoying, which he wished, would melt under the stupid sun.

A fence.

The same fence that Tamaki and Hani were working at.

He laughed, not unkindly, but rather self deprecatingly.

_It was so obvious, and he had missed it._

_There was always that fence between them. Always._

He continued turning the teacup round with his long, tapered fingers that had never roughened, that had never done anything more strenuous than playing the piano or typing words. He saw in painstaking focus how large the chasm there was between them and the fence between them seemed to grow ever larger and insurmountable in his inner eye. However, no sign of this harsh truth seemed apparent on the flawless surface that Ootori Kyouya had long schooled into blankness.

_They belonged to different worlds, separated by a fence. _

_Each would never cross over to the other or ever truly understand what it was like on the other side of the fence. _

Swirling the tea around in the cup, he mused once again as he often had about the Rene vase and her eight million yen debt that never seemed to ebb (mostly due to his pained efforts); _would she have agreed to remain in the Host Club if she had paid her debt? _

The answer was clear.

There was always a boundary between the rich and the poor, the abject difference in their lodging, one a grand mansion, the other a pitiful apartment, the difference in the mere quantitative size, his was at least a hundred acres, hers, a mere five-hundred square feet. He slept on sea foam mattresses, she slept on a tatami mat; she travels by a train everyday, and has to get a job during the holidays, she cooks and cleans and pays bills and frets about undone house chores and never never dreams about holidays, always constantly on the look out for some cheap bargain that came with a free tea set. Her food was always bought at the end of the day when supermarkets needed to get rid of the fresh produce, often at ridiculously cheap prices.

He has never once thought of such trivialities; but maybe it was this absence of trivialities that distinguished them so much. Was it really possible, to fit into her lifestyle?

_To understand this complex creature with such an impossibly simple life? _

_Was it possible?_

Likewise, he could never imagine her blending into the all-too-comfortable life of the rich. Would she ever accept a ride in the limousine? Let their kids be pampered by million yen toys? Let the meals be cooked by flown-in chefs?

Would he ever get down and dirty, to washing dishes and cleaning the house and toilets and sprinkling the garden with a hose? Setting up the television, _by himself? _Go grocery- shopping? He doesn't even know how to pick ripe apples from the unripe ones! Hasn't seen bread not sliced up, or soba noodles in their real form- flour.

Ootori Kyouya was always the brains of the operation, never really the muscle; and Haruhi, she doesn't even need an operation, everything, is hand-made and hand-cleaned, in the flesh.

There was always a fence.

He knew deep inside that they were just two jigsaw puzzle pieces with the wrong indentations and protrusions. This was the exact reason why he declined to join in the competition, that absolutely lame who-is-the-most-refreshing-person with an equally lame prize of getting-the-room (and the girl).

There was no point essentially.

"Kyouya-senpai?"

He lurched up, suddenly, the cup of tea wobbling slightly on its plate.

"You aren't going to join the competition?"

He realized a little suddenly that his customary smirk had almost completely melted off his face, and hurried to replace it.

"Even if I win, what's the point of staying at this pensione on my own? I'll watch how it goes-" _and besides, Hani's vacation home is just next-door._

"Baka. So that castle-ly thing is Hani's vacation home?"

"Actually, all of us have vacation homes here in Karuizawa, but, you see, Hani's is the closest, so…"

She grunted and muttered something that resembled closely like 'those rich bastards s, they could just leave here then'.

Then she smiled as if a horribly marvelous idea had just crept into the dank corners of her brain and illuminated it. "Hmm, that's good for you…since you have nothing better to do with your time, there are lots of flowers to be watered…and there is another watering can in the shed……Would you like to help out, Kyouya-senpai?"

There it was, that devilish smirk that she seemed to inherit from Ranka when he was on a crazy mode: i.e. whenever Tamaki showed up at their apartment, uninvited.

He tried to lean further back into the recliner, hoping she would give up on the idea and leave him to his contemplations and green tea. Casting her another cursory glance, from above his sunglasses it was apparent she wasn't moving anywhere till she got the answer she wanted. Sighing mentally, he tried to point out the obvious.

"Unfortunately, there's a fence, Haruhi. To get to the other side would require me to take a long walk around it till I come to the end of the boundary before making my way up again to where the precious flowers are. It's not worth my effort," he said, shrugging casually.

Inwardly, he knew his excuse was just plain lazy, and the sight of her rolling her eyes none-too-discreetly showed her apparent displeasure. _Those fricking rich bastards…_

"The sun must have fiddled with your brain cells, Kyouya-senpai. There's always a door. See?" Haruhi gently and slowly emphasized as she unlatched a lock and pulled open a door that has miraculously seemed to avoid his radar-eyes.

"Or, you can always climb over….I'm sure you have new sets of Armani's and Versace's…or, I can always pull you over…or we can always break a hole in the fence, get you across, and get Tamaki to mend it up!" She finished, with a slight flourish, like a magician displaying a disappearing act, with much grandeur and excitement.

Kyouya raised his eyebrows, at the girl before him, an extreme emotion for someone like him. Watching her eagerness and resolution, a small smile touched those lips of his that never really seemed to smile truly.

_Maybe we can compromise._

_Maybe._

The small smile on his lips became a tiny bit brighter, without his knowledge. And there was little indeed that happened without his express knowledge.

Enlightened, Ootori Kyouya then abandoned the comforts of his shaded area and soothing green tea, stood up and walked towards her.

_Torturing Tamaki sounded like a great idea._

---------

inapickle: well that was pretty rushed, so please do inform us of any mistakes and errors. Feedback is also encouraged. (:


	8. elatyriaf

Elatyriaf // Once upon a time

By thewanderingpath and greenblanket (double power! Good Gai pose)

#8 - our own world

Bisco Hatori owns Ouran Host Club and all of its lovable (easy to torture) characters. Other random injections of fairytale ideas also do not belong to us. All credit goes to those who created them.

A/n: CRACK ALERT! Heed it wisely and continue reading. :)

_Written on 1st Feb 2009_

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a princess-

No, Prince!

Princess!

Argh, whatever.

Right, once upon a time there was a cross dressing prince-ass (hey!) whose blond hair was as bright as sunshine, and eyes as pools of amaranthine, sinking anyone that looked directly into his perfect eyes into their deep depths. He possessed a perfect porcelain face, with such a fair smooth complexion that any maiden would lust after, and lashes long enough to cast spiky shadows across his high sculpted cheekbones, creating a picture of utter perfection, mesmerizing anyone who cared to look. The sunlight streaming from the tiny window hit his face at such an angle that he alone was illuminated and the fine wheat blond hair created a halo around his angelic face.

And now why would such a beautiful creature be cross dressing? (Other than the obvious fan service for the fan girls…) Well that was the exact question that his current captor was demanding from Prince Tamaki, who was at the very moment, trapped in a tower of sombre gray barrow stone reaching high into the soft fluffy cotton candy clouds.

"Hn, what kind of _man_ would stoop so low as to clothe himself with frills and laces and skirts and bows? Are you a transvestite?" A deep voice rustled Tamaki from a deep chloroform-induced sleep.

"-Eeep! You! You! You whose shadow cloaks me in fear! Who art thou?! Unhand me now, you Shadow King! Your deeds will not go unpunished! You foul, sinister, beastly, nefarious, repugnant, vile, vicious, evil, cruel, mean…" Tamaki trailed off.

"Running out of words, I see? After all, a pea-sized brain can only contain so many stolen phrases. Tsk, tsk. How about _malignant, pernicious, flagitious, unpropitious, execrable, iniquitous, depraved, revolting_ Lucifer who kidnapped the fair princess Tama? Which is really all quite disappointing because she turned out to be a transvestite prince.' He said with a dismissive wave of his hand, sending Tamaki into a corner where no light shined through, wrapped in darkness.

"Because I was boooooored. Jean Perrie, our royal tailor has ran out of ideas! His clothes are repetitive and droll and boring, tights were so last season, and who wears mustard? The cloaks are all magenta, and the ruffles were terribly – "

"I get the idea…You were bored and obviously decided dressing effeminately was the trend to chase," Kyouya leered, sarcasm biting into each single word. Thankfully Tamaki was engulfed in the darkness, else one might spot a peculiar shade of puce colouring his cheeks.

Of course, although this rather confusing situation might not be apparent to the beloved readers out there, what really happened, was that Prince Tamaki in his boredom decided to invent an imaginary princess, Princess Tama from a neighboring country, also imaginary, where the roads were paved with gold and streetlights tipped with diamonds and roof shingles made of pure silver, though anyone who read _Wizard of_ _Oz_ might point out to him that he might perhaps have been reading a little of that certain literature.

Obviously in doing so, he incited the greed and woke the sleeping beast asleep in the witch's heart, a monster called profits. Ootori Kyouya, the evil witch in our fairytale, decided it would be all too profitable to kidnap this Princess Tama and demand an astronomical ransom from the worried king and queen. Of course now that he realized that he had unwittingly captured the prince of his kingdom… it wasn't all that bad either. The ransom would be a hefty sum too. At that thought, Kyouya's glasses glinted and a scary smirk crossed his face, driving Tamaki further into his abyss of depression and fear.

"YOU ARE EVIL INCARNATE!" Tamaki wails.

"Yeah, yeah, as previously established, I am. Now, this is getting droll. You're staying here, till your foolish father decides you are worth some gold. Although I would thoroughly doubt it, considering your meagre intellect, he must be a fool to actually appoint you as crown prince."

It seems the enormity of the situation had suddenly knocked the wind out of Tamaki as he realizes that, _crap,_ he really was in some deep shit, and now he trembles, despite the vixen fur stole across his shoulders, and whimpers.

His tongue no longer spouts out words of flowery literature and instead concentrates on pleading to keep vital instruments of survival by his side.

"… …Can I, can I at least have Beary?"

He could have sworn Kyouya's eyebrow shot up and reached the top of his forehead, before as usual, another infuriating smirk slid across his face.

"You are a disgrace to Men." He drawled, throwing the stuffed toy over, where Tamaki's fingers fumbled and trembled to reach for them.

This once again threw him into his corner that he had pretty much claimed as his own, and began muttering to himself about all this being a bad dream and how he would soon wake up on his king sized feather bed with his Beary beside him and his canopy drapes made of pure silk taffeta hanging above him.

'Ne ne, what did master bring back this time?' A voice travelled from somewhere below his feet, and he turned his tear stained face downwards, seeing a Siamese cat winding its way around his feet.

Tamaki blinked stupidly. He might be a prince trained in all palace etiquette and knowing which fork to use and which music piece to play in front of guests from varying countries, but he had never been trained in dealing with a talking cat. I mean, who has?

'Che, it looks stupid.' Another voice echoed back from his left, causing him to twist his body around to look into another pair of orange gold flecked eyes, no correct that, he had never been trained in dealing with _twin _talking Siamese cats that seemed to take as much pleasure in insulting him as their shadow king master did. What was with him and his thrice-damned luck with meeting sadomasochistic monsters anyway?

"He's all yours to play with." Another glint of the glasses.

The twins shot each other identical smirks, a sort of taut crinkle of cheeks, if Siamese cats possess cheeks that is to say.

As if a light bulb suddenly lit up the dank corners of their minds, Kaoru purred.

"Ne, Kyouya-sama, don't we need to give that fatuous King some evidence that his precious fool of a son is actually in your hands?"

"Well, we have the perfect idea." The cruel smirk only seemed to intensify as Tamaki listens in and his mind screams and shouts for help, that no! He will not give them a damn lock of his hair, and he wants his clothes perfectly in one condition, without any tears, thankyouverymuch, and no way in hell would he be willing to sacrifice his toe.

"How about Beary, then? Which other fool would dress up his stuffed toy to impersonate him with that stupid blond wig and bow tie?" Hikaru pipes in, already happy with the direction in which this was taking.

"After all, it is the most commonly known fact that as a musician needs his instrument, Tamaki will _die_ without…"

"His teddy bear." Both twins intoned, their tails flicking in idle contentment.

Kyouya Ootori, the 'KO' magic-user notorious for succeeding in any heinous crime that he partook in, smiled widely. There was a reason why he took in the pair of Siamese twins, no matter how much frustration they could give him at times.

With another subtle flick of a wrist, Beary, who was stuffed underneath Tamaki's clothes in a last attempt to hide it from these despots, was promptly whisked over into Kyouya's grip.

"Well, time is money, and money is king; I shall leave you two to play." Kyouya smoothly says, urgency in his tone, before adding on, "His hair looks a little _straggly and long_, do you not agree?" With that, he disappears into thin air.

Hikaru and Kaoru mewled in agreement, and brandished their razor sharp claws at the idiot sniveling in front of them, and moved towards him menacingly.

Tamaki could only let out a whimper and huddle further into the already much abused corner...

Two hours would seem relatively short in the whole scheme of one's rather long life, but to Tamaki it was unimaginably long and torturous, especially under the twin's loving care. So two hours later with a much lightened head of hair, and the floor around him littered with the remains of his precious blond hair hacked off by the twins, accompanied by their evil cackling as they decide to adjourn for a siesta, Tamaki could only weep in utter despair, as he made his way to the window, to drown his sorrows in the welcoming embrace of the afternoon sunshine.

In freeze frame, it would seem like a rather poetic and heartrending picture. The frail delicate princess... err, prince leaning upon the window ledge with his tattered skirts pooled around him, his tear stained face upturned towards the sun, the rays framing him in a picture of eternal beauty and innocence lost. (Of course disregarding the fact that it was all over a simple matter of his foot long hair being cut to a respectable more manly length.)

As if Fate heard his cries of help, it decided to send some Help along. A pity Fate was a little stupid.

'Takashi, Takashi! Look, there's something weird leaning out of the window of the scary gray tower!' An adorable and high pitched voice travelled from the base of the tower.

Oh would he be saved? Was this a God-send gift? Is this the key to his salvation? Dear Kami, Tamaki was willing to pray if whatever god in sight had taken pity upon this tortured beauty and had send him his saviours in the form of… a stone-faced tall villager and a cherubic short villager. Nevertheless.

This hellhole was extremely frustrating considering how there was not a single door in sight, and no staircase leading out of the room. It was simply a tiny cellar-sized room enforced with strong walls and built on the highest foundation _ever, _transforming it into some form of tower. Only magic-users could possibly get in or out of the stupid towers without cracking their heads or falling to their deaths. But then again, who said Morinozuka Takashi was any normal villager? He, was _fierce_.

'Ne, ne, Takashi, what do you think that thing is? It looks all yellow and frilly do you think it's an over sized canary? Or a wedding cake that no one wanted to eat because there was too much cream and not enough cake?'

Tamaki sputtered, his ears almost disbelieving what that puny little thing had just said. Saviour be damned, he was _so _not a cake!

"What tragedy! What misery! A prince-turned-into-a-cake! Oh dear heavens, where is my prince? Where art thou mercy!"

'Hn' was Mori's only response as he continued standing there unmoved by the little blonde's outrageous guesses and the larger blond's stupid musings.

'It looks funny! Go get it for me, Takashi! I hope it's a cake!'

Now, Takashi was a very loyal servant, not to mention he was beholden to Hani for taking him into the family. Therefore, at that, Takashi immediately began scaling the wall of the tower without a second word or useless protests, with the little blonde cheering him on, he made his arduous way up the tower. He seemed to find little cracks in the wall where no human eye could possibly perceive, and his hands seem to be able to adhere to the smooth rock wall seemingly by magic.

At the sight of Mori climbing up the once thought to be impossible to scale wall, Tamaki immediately shut up as hope started blooming in his veins. He was going to be saved! And he was going to go on the adventure of his lifetime to save Beary! Immediately he excitedly clasped his hands together and mumbled a ton of thanks to whatever god or lady luck that was smiling upon him and kissed the ledges of the wall furiously, in a crazy thought that his love and gratefulness would reach said god and lady.

In half an hour, Mori was already about half way up the wall, and Hani had gotten bored of cheering him on, and had set up his little picnic, at the base of the tower, feeding Usa-chan tea from delicate china cups that also seemed to appear from nowhere, while Tamaki continued cheering for Mori.

After laying everything out neatly, on the pretty checkered picnic mat, Hani realized a horrible truth.

There was no cake. None at all. Nada. Zilch. Nothing. Empty. Absolutely no cake. Not even if you said pretty please with a cherry on top. There was no cherry too by the way.

At this, Hani's pretty blue eyes welled up with tears, and fat droplets began rolling down his cherubic face. And his sobbing reached the ears of the brave man still industrially scaling the walls of the tower.

At his cries, Mori immediately abandoned efforts to climb the tower, and returned to the forest floor in the blink of an eye. There was an inbred instinct to always be near Hani and to wipe away his tears and fight away his fears in any situation. Kneeling beside the sobbing boy, he enquired gently the reason for his distress and vowed to annihilate anyone or anything that dared make him cry.

'Ne,–hiccup- Taka-hic-shi. The cake -hic- disa-hic-ppeared.' A fresh bout of tears erupted from some seemingly-unable-to-empty tear ducts.

"I. Want. Cake!"

Wiping the tears from the blonde's eyes, Mori avowed to bring him to the nearest cake shop and in another blink of the eye, they were gone picnic mat, Usa-chan and all.

Tamaki blinked his eyes. Eh? What had just transpired? One minute he could almost reach out to grab Mori's outstretched palm, and the next minute that stupid blond below cried and the stone faced savior disappeared together with him.

Tamaki wept dramatically, flinging out his hands and bemoaning his fate. Why couldn't this be a regular fairytale where princesses get saved by princes, and get their chance in romance _and _life! Just like the kind his cute maid, Haruhi would read to him every night before he fell asleep, holding his hand and smoothing his brow and making him hot chocolate and marshmallows. The kind where he had no need to worry since each fairytale always had a happily-ever-after ending. This warm intimate thought of home made him all the more depressed and sent him into a new bout of theatrics.

'Oh Mother would be _so _terrified, why must such an unfortunate event befall upon us? What have we done to merit such ill treatment? If only I could soothe her anxious heart with a little sonata on the piano…"

At this point, the twins had returned to the room and was cackling at him if cats could cackle and wiping away tears from their eyes, before staring at him and bursting into laughter again.

At that moment of his utter despair and morose indulgence, a soft tap upon his shoulder shook him out of his mournful reverie and he turned around, expecting to see the shadow king wrapped in perpetual darkness and evil smirks. Instead he was greeted with a heavenly vision, a prince with limpid huge brown eyes, and a kind outstretched hand, extended towards him begging him to just reach out and take it, promising him a glittering future with two darling children hair the color of wheat...

However that vision was soon broken as recognition ignited in his heart. The same dark-chocolate shade of hair, the same huge kind eyes, the same bored expression… there was only one person he knew who looked like such…

'HARUHIIIIII!!!!! Why are you here my dear girl? Has the evil wizard kidnapped you too, because you were just too cute? Fret not, for we will surely leave this place unscathed as long as we wait for our prince charming to appear, come let us take vigil at this window together!' He declared, pulling Haruhi down beside him.

'No Tamaki-sama, I was not foolish enough to be kidnapped. In fact I am here to fetch you back home.' Haruhi said matter-of-factly, tugging his hand urgently.

Tamaki on the other hand had no idea how to respond to this turn of events and simply sat there stupidly, gaping at his lovely maid, who came all the way out here to rescue him from his baneful circumstances. Wait… There was something of about her which he failed to notice…

'HARUHI! What happened to your hair? Why is it so short???' He wailed, clutching her wildly.

'Oh, don't worry about it, I caught it in some brambles and had to cut it off. Less hassle this way, anyway.' She said, shrugging her shoulders easily.

'NO! NO! A woman's hair should be their pride and joy, their dignity, their proudest sign of beauty… … eh Haruhi, how did you find me? In fact, how did you even get up here? Did the gods summon you here? Did you fly, hop, jump?!' He asked dazedly. The million dollar _finally_ making itself known to his painfully slow mind.

'Well, you see I met two people on my way here. One was tall,' She gestured with her palm raised high, 'the other was short and blonde and going on about 'cakecakecake!' Then the tall one asked me directions to the nearest cake shop and I directed them to the nearest one in the village and they gave me a seed in gratitude that they said would grow to a hundred storeys, and so here I am.' She narrated as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have a seed grow in a matter of minutes, and for her a delicate maiden to climb through the open window to find Prince Tamaki.

'No, I was asking how you found me.' He asked, waving her entire explanation before away as if it meant nothing. Well, having Tamaki as her employee was never the most natural thing in the world either. He cocked his head to the left, clueless at how she even made her way here.

She looked at him pitifully before deciding to enlighten him.'This _is_the only tower in the entire forest, you know. I mean, one would think the evil witch would learn some form of subtlety and camouflage it with some leaves or something.' She said, rolling her eyes, all the while stroking the two Siamese cats who wound their paws around her shoulder, mewling happily. It seemed the Siamese cats were perfectly content with this strange girl and well, they weren't exactly Kyouya's bodyguards per se, there was no obligation to care if a stranger really made her way up to the room and saved the stupid prince.

'Ah… oh my darling, Haruhi! You are such a genius!!! Now we shall escape this horrendous tower together and live happily ever after!' He cried, swinging her around.

"Tamaki-sama. Put me down. We have to get out of here before the evil witch gets back, remember? Besides, I wouldn't want to spend my happily-ever-after with you…" Haruhi commented, tugging on Tamaki's frayed sleeves, and in so doing, preventing him from returning to said abused corner for more moping.

"Too late. I am almost awed at the new development that somebody actually managed to get into the room. Finally I get to meet someone with a decent level of intelligence." As if by magic, Kyouya reappears, scoffing lightly.

In the next moment. Two things happened: Haruhi thought deeply of what action she should now pursue. Then she grabbed Tamaki's arm and yelled, "Run, Tamaki-sama! Climb down the beanstalk!"

Kyouya smirked. Apparently, he had overestimated her intelligence. It was apparent that Haruhi's fail-safe logic had well, failed her.

Even as Tamaki finally gathered his wits and grabbed her hand in the direction of the window, they did not foresee the mischief that the twins could come up with. A dozen of glass bottles of different sizes containing substances that were neither liquid nor gas, in various jewel shades lay haphazardly across the floor, which the twins had inadvertently stolen from Kyouya and was just too lazy to keep their toys after getting bored of them.

Kyouya crossed his arms, staring in amusement at the array, there was bound to be a few death curses, and maybe the traditional frog transmutation one would be included too. He stood back and prepared to wait for whatever transformation that would be bound to take place when one of them tripped over his potions and broke it. Well, of course they would trip over the potions, it was bound to happen as dictated by Murphy's law.

And of course, Haruhi tripped over a bottle of smoky quartz and landed face-front on the floor, cracking the fragile glass. Tamaki was flung out of the window in time as she fell, her arms pushing her employer.

Haruhi was many things, impertinent, blunt, and dense but she could never be accused of being irresponsible. It was not really out of sheer loyalty to Tamaki or anything like that really, just part of the job description that said that she was bound by honour to protect her master and really it would be rather irresponsible to do any less. Besides, he was getting a little annoying after a while.

She looked back just in time to see the Shadow King attempt to follow Tamaki out of the window, but in that split moment in time she caught his eye as he prepared to sail through the window in pursuit of his prisoner, and time stilled.

In that millisecond, the shadow king fell in love, with the brutally honest girl he sees through his eyes.

In that millisecond, Haruhi's heart fluttered and her cheeks blushed and her eyes opened to see the dangerous appeal that robed all evil, charming bishounens.

"I- you- We-" Haruhi mumbled, her wits leaving her behind. "I fell in love with you?"

"I guess so. I suppose we should, er, kiss?" It seemed Kyouya was woefully inept in the arts of seducing women somehow, no matter how skilled he was in creating spells and casting a general aura of doom and gloom over everything.

They approached each other hesitantly, his lips finding hers, a sweet innocent kiss so unlike that of the shadow king that it surprised him. A kind of intuition pushing her to kiss back so unlike her usual pragmatism that it surprised her too.

Well, wasn't there a saying that love is irrational? And maybe it is.

Love was blinder than the ones found at first sight, and crazier than those who stalked for it, but maybe sometimes, a love potion that simply heightens attention to subtleties like one's character, rather than attractiveness, was needed to bring two unlikely persons together, as in the case of the Kyouya and Haruhi.

After all, life is never predictable and fairytales were meant to be as crazy as they could get, and really, all fairytales were definitely linked, no matter what the authors say otherwise.

Once upon a time, there was a witch-

Hn. As if I am effeminate. Wizard.

...just look at yourself in the mirror, those high cheekbones and pointed chin!

...This Kyouya does not engage in unintelligent conversations.

Right. So there was this witch (Are you a troll?) called Ootori Kyouya and he generally is pretty damn scary, with four eyes (They are called glasses), and somehow, he managed to steal the love of a prince, who was not really a prince, but rather a maid, from a princess who really was a prince. Somehow, by some magic, their eyes caught each others' gaze, and they... fell deeply in love.

Love perpetuates cliché anyway.

* * *

... What to say. The lovely last line there belongs to afrai, of which you must definitely check out, due to its quirky sense of humour.

So we were running late on the thirtykisses deadline, as usual, and it occurred to us after much agony and frustration and sleeping at twos that we would write crack. Of course many other options were pondered upon, and we seriously considered writing a drabble...

path: "Oh man, we can never write drabbles! I mean this was supposed to be a drabble..."

blanket: (laughs hysterically at the 3000+ words we have written) "We should just banish all thoughts of writing a drabble... considering how much we love to describe..."

more laughing ensues.

And after some 3 to 4 hours and fully exhausted, this piece is done. So now, we would like to know if:

a) Us writing crack is the MOST abominable thing on earth and that we should never, ever, ever attempt it again, considering how terribly crappy this thing turned out.

b) ROFLMAOILY. More please! -eats randomness up-

We tried to keep the characters in character and only the plot out of character, so your comments would definitely help us to improve. :)


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